Audacity
by Ich-Bin-Eine-Dame
Summary: A story about 7 people in their twenty-somethings who don't know what they're doing with their lives. And the journey to finding the solution. University AU featuring everybody's favourite Arthur, Alfred, Francis, Matthew, Lovino, Elizabeta, Gilbert, Ivan, Roderich, and some others. Features friendship, slow romance, a grocery store, a robbery, a pig, a foot, a shoe, and a bathtub.
1. Chapter 1- Bathtub

Audacity

Chapter One: Bathtub.

If Alfred were ever to have to tell anyone this story, he wouldn't know how to begin.

Hell, he wouldn't even know how to end it.

Maybe because there was no end to it.

When he was 20 years old, a fresh starter at university in his second year of getting a degree in quantum physics, he decided to go to a party, which wasn't really a party, it was more a get-together. It was autumn and the new semester had just begun, and the international students, who were grouped in one home, decided to produce _'a little house-warming shing-ding'_ as Alfred's cousin and house-mate Matthew called it. He also decided to throw in a _'Alfred, please, you should really get outside and stop watching boring documentaries in your pyjamas'_ to which Alfred had no reply since he was doing the exact thing Matthew described. He was too smart for his own good, studying medicine, and he was also very cunning.

Alfred decided from that moment on that he didn't want to lead his life watching documentaries on National Geographic about giraffe sex, which was _very_ fascinating thank you very much, eating cereal in his pyjamas. Although his pyjamas were pretty cool, if he could say so, with Captain America on his shirt and pants. He tore his head from the incredible program to look at Matthew, giving him a confused stare. He proceeded in replying with a _'Yeah, okay, fine.'_ after which Matthew gave a _'Hm.'_ of approval and spun on his heels. Alfred was left alone and sighed.

He didn't want to lead his life like this.

The problem was that he didn't know what he was doing with his life.

He sighed again.

The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't want to lead this life alone, because the National Geographic Channel had some damn good programs.

Giraffe sex included.

Arthur stood in the kitchen, biting at his thumb, standing in his pyjamas. Grey distasteful sweatpants and an overlarge black t-shirt of the Arctic Monkeys that he found on Ebay, with a toothpaste stain.

At least, Francis hoped it was a toothpaste stain.

The opposite would mean he got laid. Or did other things Francis did not want to know about or acknowledge.

He stood next to him, busy making some sort of _'French delicatess'_, and promptly swatted Arthur's hand from his lips. Arthur gave him an angry look and moved his jaw in a way that he only does when he's nervous and angry at the person who made him nervous, which in this case was Francis himself.

"I don't see why we have to invite people here. I don't want people here. Gilbert fills up any extra space, and multiple personalities." Arthur said while scratching him forehead, leaning against the kitchen counter, looking straight ahead, avoiding Francis' eyes.

"Ah, _bon_. The quiche is looking good." Francis muttered whilst moving to put the pastry in the oven.

"No, you're avoiding my questions, you tit."

"_Ah, oui, il semble que oui. Peut-être qu'ils sont stupides."_

"No French in my kitchen!" Arthur practically screamed.

"Oh Arthur, you amuse me so. This is _our_ kitchen, _lapin_." Francis said with a smile whilst setting the temperature on the oven, then putting his oven gloves off, and turning to face Arthur, who leaned against the counter with the same stony expression which suited him a little too well. Francis sighed.

"It will be good for you to have social interaction." Francis continued. Arthur had no reply for this that would make him sound like he _did_ have an active social life excluding his friendly relationship with the university's librarian, who he frequently saw as a English literature major. He pushed himself off the counter and left the kitchen with a graceful motion.

"Bathtub." Arthur said with his back turned to Francis and his face towards the bathroom.

"You should really not-" Francis started whilst putting his apron off, the one with the _'Oh hon hon hon, merde, baguette.'_ typed font, which he received as a, serious, not ironic, Christmas gift from Arthur.

"Bullshit." Arthur shouted from the bathroom before slamming the door and locking it.

He moved swiftly to sit on the edge of the bathtub situated next to the door, the old bathtub that sort of always smelled of sardines. He rested his legs on the opposite side, reached over to the window sill next to the tub and located the package of Q-Tips. The package contained his cigarettes, and a lighter. He placed one in between his lips and lit in, and breathed in the nicotine. An awful habit. Especially if the landlady in contact with the university did not allow indoor smoking, so here he was. She lived opposite and watched the front door of their apartment building to check if anyone was smoking.

She didn't like that.

She _did_ like Arthur.

_A little too much_.

She was what Gilbert called a '_total cougar_'. It seems Arthur's accent was irresistible for her. Arthur from then on decided to smoke in the bathroom, sitting on the edge of a half-broken bathtub. His room was facing the woman's own window, he couldn't even smoke there. The bathroom it was, then.

Amazing.

It was amazing where life led you.

Arthur often wondered whether he was leading his dream life, sitting in his bathroom smoking alone reading one of his books that he permanently left there.

He didn't want to lead his life like this.

The problem was that he didn't know what he was doing with his life.

However, he was sure that he didn't want to lead this life alone.

Matthew was persistently knocking on the bathroom door.

"Alfred, I swear to God, you take longer than a woman."

"Hey, that's not nice! And I bet that's sexist, too!" Alfred replied from inside and continued fixing his hair, he had to get the part right.

"You know... I've got a real' good feeling about tonight-" Alfred started whilst fixing his t-shirt with a bright smile on his face.

"That's rich, you didn't even want to go, too busy watching something about beluga sex-" Matthew replied from outside.

"_Giraffe_ sex, you uneducated person. Anyway, I feel really good, like _cool_ and _young_ and shit." Alfred continued and started to trail off. He fixed his glasses and opened the door to a unhappy Matthew outside with crossed arms and a stern expression.

"Yeah, that's real' nice, let's go." Matthew said and turned away, leading the way to the door, taking out his keys from his pocket to lock the door on his way out.

"I've got a good feeling about this, Matt." Alfred finished, grabbing his bomber jacket that smelled a little bit of nachos, Matthew thought, from the table next to the door, and slammed it a little too loudly.

"I don't have a good feeling about this, Matt." Alfred said standing in front of the door to the apartment.

"Jesus Christ, Al. Seriously?" Matthew mumbled and rung the door bell.

"Where do you even know these people from?"

"The French guy. He, uhm, he helped me out on the first day. Quite nice. I bet you'll know others as well, it's a small world, after all." Matthew mumbled again.

"Yeah?" Alfred turned to face Matthew whilst walking forward.

"Yup." Matthew popped the 'p' quietly and entered the elevator. A silence ensured until they reached their floor and got out.

"This is it." He turned and faced Alfred.

"This is it?"

"This is it."

Matthew leaned forward to ring the doorbell. Alfred was bouncing on the balls of his heels. Matthew pursed his lips and took a sharp intake of breath and reached out to grab his shoulders and stop his nervous movements.

Loud dance music ensured when Francis opened the door.

"_Allors_, it is Matthieu! How are you, are you better now?" He said with a smile and reached out to shake his hand.

"Oh, uhm, yeah, yes. Yeah I am. Thank you." Matthew said with a awkward glance towards Alfred who was eyeing the situation with curiosity.

"No problem, I am glad to hear it." Francis replied and let go of his hand to gesture at Alfred.

"And this is..?"

"I'm Alfred F. Jones, at your service!" Alfred reached his hand out to wave with a bright smile.

"A pleasure, I am Francis Bonnefoy. Please, come in." He opened the door wider and let both into the foyer, taking Alfred's jacket politely, and led them into the living room, which was filled with people socialising, and their kitchen was laid out with alcohol and food which looked too good for a student gathering.

Matthew and Francis disappeared from Alfred's side.

Francis was weird, Alfred thought as he led himself to get a bottle of beer.

He wore weird clothes. A black and white striped long sleeved sweater and a red beret, what was he thinking? Totally hipster French, and the accent too. _God_. He seemed snobbish and too classy for someone like Alfred. He probably only drank wine.

Alfred located his beer bottle and observed the room.

He couldn't find Matthew.

And he didn't know anyone here.

It was like high-school all over again.

He decided to leave to escape to the bathroom, where he'd finish his beer and leave as soon as he got bored. Maybe he'd talk later, but he felt a little tired and pissed that Matthew dragged him out. Alfred checked his pockets to make sure he-

Shit.

_Shit_.

He didn't have his keys.

Right, he'd stay in the bathroom until the party had cleared and then he'd go home and Matthew hope be home. Right?

Yeah.

Yeah, okay.

Good.

Alfred left and made a beeline to security, his golden throne.

The toilet seat it was.

Oh.

_Oh_.

When he opened the door he didn't expect to find the most attractive, hot, beautiful, sexy, cute, _everything in between, __Jesus Christ_ man he ever saw. He couldn't have been much older than him, and wore black skinny jeans and a black t-shirt from a band that Alfred probably should have heard of. He had a lit cigarette_ (Seriously? This was like, Alfred's totally secret fetish, __fuck__.)_ between his lips and was holding a blue bound novel in his delicate, fine hands, 'The Great Gatsby', one of Alfred's favourites (_Dude_.). He had the most intense green eyes, _God __damn_, which were widened in shock, and his eyebrows were dark in contrast to his pale and full, but not awkward on his face, which was sharp and gentle at the same time. His _really fucking long_, _oh __God__,_ legs were resting on the other side of the bathtub.

Alfred was star struck, and had to impress this person. _He had to._

So he opened and closed his mouth a few times and finally, finally said something to the man.

"Hi."

"Hello." The stranger replied in a unexpected raspy voice, which Alfred found totally suited him.

The man stared at him and moved his eyes up and down, as if taking in Alfred's appearance. Arthur did exactly that. He did what he hoped he was a subtle checking-out. It wasn't, but Alfred was too engrossed to notice. Arthur thought that this boy was the vision of every person attracted to the male population's person's dream. Himself included. He was wearing a dorky t-shirt which Arthur thought was utterly adorable and, _okay, fine_, a little _hot_, because it showed off how unfairly _buff_ he was. Arthur was sure he was drooling by now.

"I'm a physics major." Alfred stated awkwardly.

After a silence, Arthur answered in his everlasting sarcastic tone. "Was that your planned conversation starter?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

Alfred had not moved from his position.

Neither had Arthur.

The loud dance music filled the bathroom- It was dubstep.

"Did it work?"

"No."

Silence again. Both were still staring at each other.

Arthur found that blue was his favourite colour now.

Alfred changed his from blue to green.


	2. Chapter 2- Curry

Chapter Two: Curry.

"What are you doing in my bathroom?" Arthur said in crisp language after taking a drag of his cigarette. Alfred stepped in and closed the door behind him, the music not ceasing.

"I'm hiding. I don't know anyone here, so yeah. I was going to lie in the bathtub until everyone left."

Silence, yet again.

"I was going to read and sit on my bathtub until everyone left." He said with a sigh.

"Nice." Alfred replied, elongating the word comically.

"Yeah?"

After a brief pause, Alfred continued. He was still standing next to the door.

"So... You're an international student." Alfred said with a smile.

"Your skills of deduction are flawless."

"Where you from?"

"It's where _are_ you from, not 'where you from'."

"Where _are_ you from, then?"

"England."

"I thought so, it's, yeah, it's the accent."

"Well done." Arthur said sarcastically.

"Yup." Alfred popped the 'p' and tried to look everywhere except at the stranger. He failed.

"Name?" Arthur continued, not moving with a stern expression on his face that Alfred couldn't quite read.

"Alfred F. Jones."

"Age?"

"20."

"Fear?"

"What?"

"What is your greatest fear?" Arthur leaned forward, taking in Alfred's reaction, as if studying him.

"Oblivion." Alfred replied after a moment.

Arthur took a drag of his cigarette and looked Alfred straight in the eyes.

"Explain why."

"Well... If you look all day up into the sky and like, study quantum physics and the, like, infinite vast undefined size of the universe, you feel very small. And I don't like feeling small, unimportant. I'm afraid of that feeling. Of not being valued, of being alone, of- of oblivion." Alfred finished lamely.

Arthur took in a deep breath, as if he were about to say something, then turned away and took another drag of his cigarette. He thought about what he said.

"That was..." Arthur started quietly, sitting up a little, "surprisingly beautiful for a physics major."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They stared at each other, and Alfred soon became very nervous of where he should put his hands.

"Sit." Arthur bluntly said with a deadpan expression. He turned and placed the cigarette in the potted plant next to his head. Alfred thought the light almost made him look supernatural in a way.

"What?"

"Sit. Sit here- In the 'tub. But lock the door first." Arthur gestured whilst turning to light another cigarette.

Alfred did what he was told and was glad to be kicked out of his sacred heaven. His eyes stung a little from the smoke of Arthur smoking.

"That's my favourite book." Alfred said whilst lying in the tub, his face and chest facing Arthur's seated body on the edge of the tub. He was leaning against the wall to the left, balancing himself on the corner, with his legs across the tub. Alfred placed his elbows on the sides of the bathtub and let his arms fall down into his lap.

"Yeah?" Arthur said looking down with raised eyebrows, with a cigarette between his lips and lighting it.

"Yeah."

"It's good." Arthur said after taking a drag of the cigarette.

"It is." Alfred said moving his head to look up whilst taking in a deep breath, then immediately coughing from the smoke.

Arthur inevitably noticed this and twisted his torso to switch on the fan in the corner, and sprayed Francis' expensive imported eau de cologne. He revealed a small sight of skin, just around his hip bone, which Alfred failed not to stare at. He took a sharp intake of breath at the view.

"'_So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past._'" Alfred said, looking up at the ceiling again. It was cracking slightly.

"Incredible. You remembered something from high-school English class." Arthur replied sarcastically. He disliked snobs like Francis who bragged when they were 'different' and 'liked things others didn't'. He turned his face to his novel. Alfred thought he looked very beautiful with his face calm, yet concentrated like that.

"Hang on, I don't know your name!" Alfred said with a gasp and sat up to directly face Arthur, whose face was mere centimetres away.

"Neither do I."

"Alfred F. Jones." Alfred said with a smile.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." He replied with a ghost of a smile.

After minutes of silence except of Arthur smoking and turning pages, Alfred continued disrupting the silence Arthur usually enjoyed. Today he thought the silence was too loud, too busy, and too shockingly ordinary, accustomed, and normal. He didn't want to ever get used to everlasting silence.

"Are you living your dream?" Alfred suddenly asked.

"Here in a bathroom with a complete stranger to run away from a party in my own flat? Hardly. You?" Arthur replied.

"Well, yeah-"

"Okay, that's a little bit sad."

"I was _going_ to say 'Well, yeah, me neither'. Also, I meant like, in general. What you majoring in?"

"Guess." Arthur said with a light smile, lifting his thumb towards his mouth. Bad habits break hard, he supposed, like his sarcasm or smoking or biting-

After a long '_hm'_ and a pause in which Alfred thought about his question, he answered with "Psychology!"

"No."

"Chemistry?"

"No."

"English!"

"Correct. Congratulations. You're rubbish at guessing."

"... My next guess was theology."

"Jesus Christ." Arthur said whilst rolling his eyes, then turned his head to stare at the ceiling.

Another silence.

"So... what's your favourite book?"

"No." Arthur replied without taking his eyes off the ceiling.

"Hey, I never heard about that one before, who's it by?"

Arthur turned his head down and fixed him with a glare that could have killed a man. Alfred's face formed into confusion and then embarrassment.

"Haha, _hilarious_.."

"I'm very comical, dearest." Arthur said, moving his head back to his book and turned a page.

"You're so cynical, what's wrong with you?"

Another pause during which Arthur lowered his book and stared at Alfred.

"...Let me think about that." Arthur said with a sort of sadness, which Alfred thought was fascinating, hell, Alfred thought the man was fascinating in every aspect, even though he just met him in his own bathtub. It was surreal. Yet he wanted more. He wanted to know more, he wanted to know everything, he wanted to spend every moment on Earth with him. Fascinating was the only word that came to his mind to describe him.

Arthur tore his gaze from Alfred's far too blue eyes that looked too good to be true underneath his glasses. Alfred laid his head back again.

"I don't think I'm doing this right." Alfred said quietly, surprising Arthur with the softness of his otherwise loud voice.

"You're in my bathtub, for fucks' sake, what's there to do wrong?" Arthur said, and regretted his tone. He was too sarcastic for his own good. A horrible habit. Maybe that's why his closest friend was Francis, the person who he hated more than anything else.

"I mean like on a general basis. I don't think I'm doing this whole thing right. I mean, am I happy? Will this whole university thing make me happy? Is this what I want?" Alfred said seriously, looking at Arthur, who seemed to acknowledge what he was saying with an interested glance.

Arthur turned his head away and lowered his gaze.

"I suppose we all think that." He muttered quietly.

"What do you want?" Alfred continued after a pause.

"I don't know, Alfred." Arthur said with a sigh.

"I do." Alfred said with a, again, shocking serious expression.

"You hardly know me-" Arthur began.

"You want to be happy." Alfred was sitting up and facing Arthur, whose mouth was dropped in surprise and whose head was desperately searching for a sarcastic response.

"Bullshit. I'm too cynical for happiness." Arthur finally settled on after a pause.

"Nah, I don't believe that." Alfred said with a lopsided smile

Arthur stared at him in response.

Alfred was still far too close and Arthur found himself leaning in a little too close.

"You know... I thought I'd spend the night dancing and talking or something, and _not_ in a bathtub." Alfred said with a light laugh, "But I ain't leaving now, don't you worry."

"I planned this. I mean, not _this_, not _you_ showing up, but sitting here. " Arthur said slowly with reluctance, finishing his sentence in a quick tempo.

"You did?" Alfred asked whilst laughing.

"Yes, it's a bit sad-" Arthur said, scratching his forehead.

"No, it's hilarious! And maybe a little bit of genius." Alfred said enthusiastically, leaning even more towards Arthur.

"It's lonely." He replied, moving forward.

"I don't think so."

"It is." Arthur replied determinedly, with a serious expression.

"Well, we're lonely together now, Arthur." Alfred said softly, his head still leaning..

"Are we now?" Arthur asked in the same soft tone.

"Totally, you know-"

Alfred was interrupted by a loud sound of glass crashing onto the floor, someone dropped their glass outside. Arthur jumped only little and gasped, but it still caused him to lose his balance and fall forward into the bathtub, on top of Alfred.

"Hey hey _hey_, this is _not_ the designated make-out room!"

The door was open.

Arthur was lying on top of Alfred, who in turn was surprised and horrified and glad Arthur didn't lose his grip on that cigarette, his glasses here skew across his face, and Arthur had a similar expression on his face. He promptly flung himself up and away from Alfred, trying to stand up in the bathtub with great difficultly, alone because of the shock of the situation.

"I thought I-" Alfred began, where as Arthur opted for a "_Fucks' sake_ Gilbert, you tit, I swear to God you will not have testicles tomorrow morning-", and Gilbert interrupted them both by leaning against the door frame and eyeing the situation with a cocky grin on his face. He wore his _'party jeans' _and his favourite shirt, the one from his home, Berlin with an inside joke about East Germany, _'Spreewalder Gurken'_. It was to be expected as a child born and raised there, until the reunification. Gilbert was proud of it, but at the same time everything but proud, and bragged about it, but similarly never spoke about it.

"Amazing. I almost thought half of the people at this party were gay, then I saw you two lovebirds and now it's confirmed. Seriously, even the ladies are going at it out there with other chicks. It's the homosexual manifesto..." Gilbert said with the same annoying grin, and turned to leave Arthur and Alfred stare at each other in confusion and surprise.

"That- That was Gilbert. He's- He's one of my flatmates. German." Arthur said whilst getting out of the bathtub. Alfred stood up, looking at Arthur. He turned and moved his book to fit under the potted plant on the window sill, underneath of which at least five other books were. He pushed the Q-Tip box closed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. Yeah I know him." Alfred said, also getting out of the tub.

"Really?"

"Yeah, he works with me. I have a part-time job. I fix television sets." Alfred said, oddly proud of the fact, and also proud of the fact that he didn't see him before and opted to flee. Otherwise, he wouldn't have met Arthur.

After a pause, Arthur replied. He looked around the bathroom, and crossed his arms, unsure of what to do with them.

"He bleaches his hair." He said with a smile, bringing his thumb up to his mouth to bit it, a nervous habit.

"Oh my God, really?" Alfred said with dramatic disgust.

"Yes, I once switched his dye with red dye."

"Arthur?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me never to get on your bad side." Alfred replied with a sheepish look, which Arthur thought was far too attractive.

"Surprisingly, Gilbert isn't even on my bad side. Sometimes I don't know why not." Arthur said with a tooth showing smirk, which Alfred thought was far too attractive.

"What do we do know?" Alfred replied quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed. His body was still tingling slightly after the encounter that made his feet and fingers feel light and his heart too big for his chest.

"What do you want to do?" _'Make out and marry you.' _was the answer Alfred was urged to say, but decided against it.

"Dunno."

Much better.

"I'm hungry. There's a curry place next door, if you want to..." Arthur started and felt silly for asking.

"Sure!" Alfred replied a little too quickly, with a smile that was a little too bright.

It was on that night that Alfred suddenly decided that his favourite food was curry.

They walked out of the bathroom, Alfred following Arthur, who gave Alfred his bomber jacket which he gave earlier to Francis upon his arrival. Arthur led them to the door and elevator. It was still surreal, Alfred thought. They shared the ride in silence, until Arthur decided wisely to warn Alfred.

"The landlady lives opposite us. She's, well, nice enough, but a little... She's fond of us. In her own way. Just... be subtle." Arthur said shyly, drawing his hand up to bite his damn thumb of his, Alfred noticed.

"Arthur, are you warning me about your landlady?" Alfred said nervously whilst opening the door to outside the apartment complex-

"Yes, I bet she'll be outside- Oh, good evening Mrs. Dupress." Arthur said, not stopping his walking and increased his speed. Alfred jogged a little to keep up. He supposed Arthur's long legs- _'No, don't think about it, Al, don't don't don't don't, Jesus, you pervert!_'- carried him faster than expected of such a short, lean guy.

"Why, Arthur dear! How have you been?" Mrs. Dupress replied, cutting both of them off by standing in front of them. They were trapped. Arthur thought he was too British for his own good by conducting polite conversation with the woman almost throwing herself at Arthur, caressing his forearm whilst asking about his welfare. Her appearance was almost sad, with cosmetic surgery covering her face, heavy eye-shadow, and blonde curls on her head, as well as a pink jogging suit that reminded Alfred of the mom in Mean Girls. And uncanny resemblance.

"Fine, thank you. And you?" He said with a polite forced smile.

"Better now that I heard that you're doing perfect. And your studies? You're such a _smart_ boy, and English too, I bet you have all the girls lining up-" She continued, sliding her hand further up his arm. Alfred wished it were his hand instead of hers.

"I'm terribly sorry, madam, but we really must dash, we have a prior arrangement. Good evening." Arthur said whilst tearing his arm away from her grip and started walking.

"Bye!" Shouted Alfred loudly, and gave a silly wave, turning and doing a mock salute.

"Well, she's interesting."

"Lovino calls her the puma."

"Yeah?" Alfred said with a smile.

"As in Italian for 'cougar'." Arthur said with a slight grin, to which Alfred responded with a laugh.

"Lovino- Talk about a weird name, man. Is he also an international student?"

"Yeah, he's another flatmate. Italian. Very- very tempered, he's loud and shouts a lot. It's him, Gilbert, Francis, and me. I think they grouped the _"Europeans" _together or something..." Arthur joked.

"'Course _you're_ not European. You're British." Alfred said with a mock seriousness and an eyeroll.

"Spot on." Arthur replied with a completely earnest intentions.

"Right, so this is it." He said after a while, gesturing to the curry stand, which was more like a van. "Reminds me of home." He said quietly.

"And where's that? I mean I know you're English, but where in England are you from?" Alfred asked in a tone he hoped was totally not nosey or creepy.

"London." Arthur answered casually whilst moving forward to order.

The man behind the counter was one of the most frightening people Alfred had even seen, including the seriously _giant_ Russian who worked at the supermarket with a unreasonable grudge against him.

"Welcome." The man said, sounding distinctly Scandinavian. He had glasses and the worst hair-cut Alfred had ever seen. It was like a bowl hair-cut, but not. Very flat. A plate hair-cut.

Arthur placed his order, a spicy choice, whilst Alfred opted for a neutral taste. The Scandinavian gave them their orders without a _'Thank you!'_ or smile.

"Wow, someone wasn't too happy to see us..." Alfred muttered quietly after both had finished in silence, standing next to the standing tables, sticking his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Arthur took out his phone, a standard touch Smartphone. "It's eleven." He replied.

"P.m.?" Alfred asked.

"No, Alfred, a.m. The sun is out and it's a lovely morning." Arthur replied in a ironic tone. Honestly, this boy was impossible. And he was a physics major? Honestly?

"Oh. _Oh_. Ha ha. Very funny." Alfred said, amused at Arthur's humour.

"I try, I try." Arthur countered.

"No wonder it's cold out! You must be freezing!" Alfred exclaimed.

"I'm _English_, it's not too cold-" Arthur started, sounding only proud and nothing else.

"Yeah, but your temperatures over there are mediocre. I'm from New York, and we've got tough winters, man. I can judge." Alfred said.

Silence ensured, and Arthur debated whether they should start getting back, unsure on what would happen if they did, or didn't, he was sure he'd never see Alfred again, he wasn't the best with people-

Alfred dumped his jacket over Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur shot his head up to look at Alfred, who intensely looked sideward, avoiding his eyes. Alfred was sure he was blushing like crazy, which he was also sure wasn't attractive.

"Are- Aren't you going to be cold without a jacket?" Arthur asked shyly, sounding ridiculous in his ears but adorable in Alfred's.

"Nah, it's fine." Alfred replied with a smile, looking at Arthur, "Besides, I'm used to it. New Yorker breed, remember?"

Arthur swallowed thickly.

They started walking back to Arthur's flat.

"Do you miss it?" Arthur asked after some time. They were walking slow, much slower than before. In the street lights Arthur thought that the situation was almost romantic. He quickly forgot those thoughts, surely Alfred did _not_ think of him like that. They'd only known each other for a few hours anyway. And who was sure that they would be, dare he think it, friends?

"Miss what?" Alfred said, with his hands in his pockets and his head up towards the sky, not moving.

"New York." Arthur repeated, trying to attempt conversation. He's English, small talk should be his forte. It's not. He's witty and full of words, but it's not.

After a long exhale from Alfred, he replied.

"Not really, I miss things about it, sure, but I like it here too."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

After another pause.

"You know..." Alfred began shyly, "In New York, my parents have this really nice place because my dad earns well as a lawyer and my mom works in television, so we've got this cool apartment, and there's a balcony on the rooftop which you're actually not allowed to go on but I go anyway. And- And you can see the sky really well." He started in a light casual tone, sounding almost nervous, but finished quietly and private. They stopped walking. Arthur shifted his arms around his shoulders, Alfred oversize jacket hung across them.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I suppose as a physics major one must like the sky." Arthur twisted his head to look up at the stars. They were surprisingly visible.

"I love it." Alfred said, staring up, only to turn his downwards to look at Arthur, "I think they're beautiful."

"So do I." Arthur said, not turning his head away from the sky.

"I suppose as an English lit major one must like beautiful things." Alfred replied with a lopsided smile, mocking Arthur's extravagant choice of words.

"I suppose you must." Arthur said, facing him with a clever grin. They continued walking until they reached the apartment complex. Arthur quickly took out his keys and opened the door, whispering a hushed _"I don't want to see the puma again." _to which Alfred wholeheartedly agreed. They slid inside and walked towards the elevator, both unsure of what was going to happen.

"So... I guess I'll find Matt and go home." Alfred asked shyly during the elevator ride, stating it almost as a question.

"If- Yeah, I mean." Arthur started, stumbling along words which was very much unlike him, "Yeah I suppose you will." He finished, looking up to see Alfred's facial expression.

"I- Can I have your number? Since- I mean, today was fun. I- I've never made a friend in a bathtub." Alfred answered all of his questions at once without even knowing it.

"Yeah, 'course you can, hang on." Arthur started quickly, sounding relieved and letting out a breath he didn't know he held, feeling very silly and entirely not himself. "Here. Just- Just put it in there." Alfred typed in his number, and Arthur typed in his. They got out of the elevator to find the apartment was near empty, with Gilbert in his boxers with small chickens on them, a cartoon from his East German days, and a black plastic bag, cleaning up some plastic cups and empty bottles.

"Everyone's gone?" Arthur asked him. Gilbert had headphones in and couldn't hear him. Arthur moved forward and tore them out with a dark facial expression..

"Yeah, Francis disappeared and Lovino got stoned so he's chilling next to the kitchen sink-Hey, you and your boyfriend are back! Now you can help clean up and try not to have sex, I mean, I'm so fucking dead, man-" Gilbert replied in a loud voice. Alfred still stood awkwardly next to the door. Lovino was really lying on the floor sleeping in the kitchen. An uncanny resemblance to a sloth in Arthur's opinion.

"He's not my boyfriend, you hideous excuse for a human being!" Arthur interrupted by shouting and walked past him, manoeuvring around the after effects of the party. He turned his head back to Alfred and locked his eyes, and Alfred decided to follow him. Besides, he still had his jacket on. Arthur opened the doors to every room in the house, with Alfred bravely following him and Gilbert blatantly ignoring them. After the search was complete, Alfred decided to call Matthew, to which Arthur agreed to.

He didn't pick up after seven tries.

Gilbert picked up on the eighth trial.

He found the phone underneath the couch.

"So... I don't know what to do."

"Well, you could either go back home and see if he's home, and sleep outside if he isn't home," Arthur started with crossed arms, still not sure whether he should give Alfred his jacket back or not, "You- You could just sleep here."

"I- Yeah, yeah sure! If that's okay, 'cause I'd be totally cool with that." Alfred started excitedly.

"Why wouldn't it be? No one cares in this house." Arthur said, walking forwards towards his room.

"Except the landlady." Alfred replied with a smile.

"She watched me once through her window and gave me warning for smoking indoors. 'S why I was in the bathroom..." Arthur mumbled whilst unlocking the door to this room, wisely locked to keep out the party-people Francis invited. He opened the door to the single most messy yet organised room Alfred had ever seen. His room was always just plain messy, with socks lying around and stuff- But Arthur's room was like a creative chaos, like how they portray writers in movies. There were thousands of books in shelves, in piles, everywhere, it was literally impossible. How had he even brought them here? Did he send them over? Why would he even need so many books? There were posters too, of music bands that Alfred heard of from his friends in high-school who were gushing about British boy-bands and their accent. Alfred never knew what they meant until he met Arthur. Especially the accent thing, but now he understood better than anyone and it's been a few hours. 'The Arctic Monkey's, 'The Wombats', 'Cage the Elephant', _dude_, this guy had a thing for mammals and bands... The room was lit by a single light-bulb but with Christmas lights all around on top of bookcases and stacks of paper. The landlady must have the same rules as the guy who owned Matt's and Alfred's flat: No extra lamps. Creative solution to the dark. Alfred hummed in appreciation.

"Sorry, mind the books." Arthur muttered whilst walking inside the room towards the desk to take out his keys and phone, and then shrugged Alfred's jacket off. Unsurprisingly, Alfred felt slightly disappointed.

"Here- And thank you, again." Arthur muttered, looking downwards. He gave Alfred his jacket, making brief contact, connecting their fingers for just a moment. He then turned around and bit that damn thumb again.

Honestly, this guy was impossible.

Arthur walked over to the small closet on the other side of the room, opened it, and reached down to find presumably something for Alfred to wear to sleep. After a while, of searching and Alfred _totally_ _not_ staring, Arthur stood up and said to Alfred: "You're too bloody big, none of my things will fit you anyway, I'll go get something from Gilbert."

Alfred felt a little disappointed for the second time because he was hoping Arthur's clothes would smell like him- _'What. A. Loser.'_

With Arthur gone, Alfred decided to look around a little more. He strolled towards the desk, with a laptop on it, paper, pens, and a mug from Manchester University. Maybe a girlfriend. Maybe a boyfriend. Also, so many damn books. Pretty amazing, cool, and probably really lame for some. Alfred belonged to those who were just impressed. From Douglas Adams to Jane Austen, from University Textbooks to 'Country Life' (_'Really, Arthur?'_). Someone must miss home once in a while. It was a awfully long way across the pond. Alfred sighed.

Arthur came back inside, making Alfred jump slightly, and Arthur shot him a suspicious glance.

"Hey, what's up with the mug? Is it from your _girlfriend_?" Alfred asked, only half teasing, feeling oddly scared of the answer.

"No girlfriends, it's my sisters,", Arthur started (_'Oh, that made sense-'_), "ex-boyfriend's mug." (_'Wait, what?_)

"Right." Alfred said with a confused facial expression.

"What?" Arthur said, setting down the clothes he took from Gilbert. As presumed, they had some sort of extremely strange emblem. This time with _'Ach was.' _printed on it.

"So, like what, you _collect_ them or something? It's a bit weird, man, to have your sister's ex-boyfriend's mugs brought with you to here." Alfred replied teasingly.

"Yes, I do collect them. I've got a whole shelf at home. She gets around." Arthur replied casually, turning to leave the room again.

Alfred was left dumb founded and alone again. Was he being sarcastic or not? '_What. A. Loser.'_

Arthur returned with a sleeping-bag. He placed it next to his bed.

Alfred looked surprised at it because it was not common to have a sleeping-bag in a university flat, not enough space.

"Gilbert's on the camping association at uni." Arthur explained.

"Ah." Alfred replied, grabbing his pyjamas to go change in the bathroom. By the time he returned, he found Arthur rummaging in his bookcase, and changed into grey sweatpants and an oversized black t-shirt of the Arctic Monkeys. Someone had a favourite band. The lights in the room were also off, with only the light-bulb on, the room was scarily dark. Not- Not that Alfred was afraid of the dark or anything, he was totally a hero.

"You must really like that band, dude." Alfred stated.

"Yeah, they're pretty good." Arthur said, and finally dug out what he was looking for, a small piece of paper.

"Lead singer's accent's hot." Alfred mumbled silently. He immediately regretted it and bunched up his eyebrows. _Slightly_ homosexual. Someone up there better help him- because not all people weren't exactly 100% a-okay with being gay, although in this area, it was positively received.

"True. From Sheffield." Arthur replied casually.

Alfred's heart rate immediately ran faster.

"Yep. You know, I'm real' tired, so nighty-night, Artie." Alfred said whilst getting into the sleeping bag and yawned.

"It's Arthur." Arthur said with an edge to his tone.

Alfred decided to ignore his tone and replied with a: "Yeah, I know, I'm not _that_ stupid."

He fell asleep faster than ever before.


	3. Chapter 3- Television

Chapter Three: Television.

Alfred had never expected to be awoken by such a noise.

He'd hoped he never would.

It was one of his biggest fears right after pigeons.

And pigeons were pretty damn scary.

Someone was producing a noise a little too early that sounded a little too much like an air-raid signal. 'Course, Alfred played far too many Zombie-themed games to _not_ be _absolutely terrified_ at the sound.

Alfred's eyes snapped open, and he jumped out of the sleeping-bag, and greeted by a slender hand located to a long arm located to a sharp shoulder located to a mop of messy blonde hair. The hand pushed him down violently from above, the figure was lying in a single-bed next to him. The person groaned into the pillow, only to later quickly shoot his head up and shout a _'Fucks' sake, Gil, stop it!'_. Alfred realised where he was and what he was doing. He sighed, and ran a hand throw his hair, surprisingly awake.

Arthur was staring at him, memorised by the movement.

He was fairly sure he drooled a little at such a sight so early in the morning. Entirely embarrassing.

Alfred sat up and greeted him with a "Good morning, sunshine!" whereas Arthur opted for a "Stop being so fucking good-looking in the morning, I feel like shit.". Alfred blushed a little at the probably indirect and out of context compliment.

"Yeah, yeah, you've had like, what? Plus minus eleven hours of sleep?" Alfred started to get up and get dressed into his clothes, but not before shaking Arthur and being graced with a angry expression which Alfred thought suited him a little too well. He grabbed his glasses from Arthur's nightstand and pulled Arthur up, then walked outside with him towards the bathroom.

Upon opening the door, he hit a person in the face, greeted with a hiss of pain.

"Oh, shit, sorry! Are you-" Alfred started, moving towards the person he very quickly recognised.

It was Matt.

In that stupid Maple Leaf sweater.

Canadian as fuck. ('_'Snorted maple syrup in high-school once, but not even for a dare, just like that...'_)

"Yeah, yeah-" He started, rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead.

"Matt? What-" Alfred began, feeling extremely confused and little hurt, as well as concerned and embarrassed and entirely uncomfortable.

"Alfred, did you get _laid_?" Matthew said with a joking expression. Alfred blushed, and looked as red as a tomato.

"Oh-my-God-Matthew-no." Alfred whispered and leaned forward quickly to cover his hand over Matthew's mouth.

"You totally did." He teased with a knowing look on his face.

"Matthew!" Alfred turned around to search for Arthur, who had disappeared from his sight. He heard the running of a faucet and assumed it was Arthur.

"I wish it were like that, bro, but no, I stayed over here because _you_ went missing. And left your phone here. And I had to keys." Alfred started, speaking hushed again. Matthew responded by glancing sideways and biting his lip.

"Wise to not try and go home, where I would have been on a normal occasion, but believe, I didn't enjoy it..." He whispered.

"What? What? Matt, are you okay? You didn't like, get inappropriate with someone or do something stupid, that's my thing. What's wrong? Matt-" Alfred began, searching his face for answers.

"No, I didn't Al, please. It- It was the 'Thing.' You know, the 'Thing'... That also happened last year at home when I visited you in New York..." Matthew responded, searching his eyes for understanding of his puzzled words. Alfred seemed to comprehend, his jaw dropped.

"What? Here? Where were you? Are you-"

"Al, it was fine. I wasn't alone. It was- Francis noticed and understood- He does that a lot. He stayed with me for an hour in a parking lot on the first day on uni, it just happened and he was there, and was really nice. That's sort of how I met him... And when it happened today again I hid in his room, it was the first best door, since the bathroom was locked, and he eventually found me and yeah. He was nice." Matthew stumbled and mumbled along his words, awkwardly embarrassed.

" Oh, Matt." Alfred replies. The share a long glance.

"It was only a twenty minute one, I've had worse."

"Yeah, but-"

"Al, I don't want to think about it."

"Be careful with Francis, you never know, maybe he'd do the do." Alfred joked and wiggled his eyebrows for good measure.

"Al," Matthew began, "I think I was one of the only people yesterday who wasn't gay, seriously. It was really weird."

"So I've heard." Alfred replied with a small laugh that seemed oddly strained. Matthew gave him a forced smile.

"So... what lead you to sleep over here?" Matthew said, with a tilt of his head towards Arthur's room and a smirk in Alfred's direction.

"I met the guy in a bathtub."

"Oh yeah?" Matthew asked, leaning closer.

"Yeah." Alfred responded with a worried knot on his forehead, slanting his eyebrows.

"Yeah?" Matthew came even closer.

"Yeah..." Alfred trailed off, visibly embarrassed.

"Yeah? What else did you do in that bathtub-" He teased Alfred.

"Matt! Stop it!"  
>-<p>

It seems that no one bothered to get dressed other than Matthew and Alfred, and solely due to the fact that they slept over in someone else's clothes. Except Francis, which was to be expected because he has silk pyjamas imported from Paris. The rest of the group- Arthur, Lovino, and Gilbert- all did not change out of their attire. Presently, the all sat gloomily around the kitchen table.

Tired, Alfred supposed. He didn't know from what.

Francis and Matthew muttered quietly whilst cooking or baking or something near the counter, and Alfred was waiting for the coffee machine to be done. Arthur nursed a cup of tea, Lovino a cup of espresso, and Gilbert some warm tomato juice. _What. The. __Fuck__._ Where do you even buy tomato juice? Is it like, in a can?

Alfred sat down. The tiredness hit him now like a truck.

The group had not moved, then all of them took a sip of their beverage at the same time. Alfred noticed Arthur held a 'King's College' mug. Huh. Cool.

No one spoke.

Francis broke the silence with his horrifyingly not-fake accent, although Alfred was fairly sure that he must have exaggerated it just to piss Arthur off. Needless to say it always worked.

"Ah, _mes amis_, we are going grocery shopping, anyone coming?" Francis announced and after no response, he left together with Matthew with a loud bang of the door that led the group around the kitchen table to sigh and drink their beverage.

"Shit." Lovino muttered, after a while, "I think I'm still stoned from yesterday..." He then glanced into his small cup and held it away from himself, brow furrowing, and intensely observing. After doing this repeatedly, Gilbert leaned over behind Lovino's shoulder and glanced into the cup.

"Did you wash it?" Gilbert asks after observing it for a while in Lovino's grasp.

"I don't even know..." He responds.

Gilbert snatched the cup and holds it close to his eye. "Doesn't look like it, _Chef_."

"Fucked if I know." Lovino says and stands, leaving slowly and throws the cup into the bin next to the kitchen door with a loud '_clunk'_, "'Think I'm still stoned, going to library. No better time to study textbooks then when slightly high."

"True." All respond and sip their beverage in solitude.

Arthur sighs.

"I'm awake now," Arthur says loudly and stands up quickly, dragging his mug to the sink, "but I'm not enjoying it. Thank God I have nothing productive planned."

"Same. Chill here?" Alfred says and follows Arthur's movements.

"Chill here." He responds, leading him outside. Doesn't even correct his grammar, he must really be _dead_.

Gil remains seated, finishes his beverage, and shouts out "Gonna go to uni today, Chinese society meeting today!" to which Arthur responds with "You're not even Chinese, you dolt!" from the other side of the apartment. Gilbert's slamming of the door is the only acknowledgment.

Arthur takes a seat on the small white couch (Alfred wasn't sure why someone thought it would be a good idea to have a white couch in a student apartment, he didn't even want to know what the stains were) in front of the television set from the late nineties, complete with VCR recorder. Alfred slams down next to him, in a slouching position, and Arthur rests his legs onto the small table facing the couch, balancing the small television. Otherwise, you wouldn't see a thing, Alfred figures.

Arthur has the urge to rest his head on Alfred's shoulder. He resists, instead lifting his foot to push the 'On' button.

"Lovino broke the remote. Threw it somewhere or something." He explains quietly and in monotone.

"Huh."

They don't exchange words, both very tired, and frankly, the atmosphere is far too strangely relaxed and natural for them to try conversation.

Arthur switches the channels until they land on 'National Geographic'.

"Hey, I watched this yesterday. Giraffe sex! It's a trilogy." Alfred explains casually with a smile, and Arthur hums in appreciation. He lowers his foot.

"It's either this or VCR reruns of 'Say Yes to the Dress' that Elizabeta brought and forgot here." Arthur explains lazily.

Alfred looks at him expectantly.

"Gil's friend. Childhood buddies. Complicated. Some East European thing." He states, and silence ensures.

It's supposed to be awkward, they only met hours ago and yet it seemed like they're best friends, Arthur thinks.

It's not awkward.

It's comfortable.

Worryingly so. So comfortable and fitting and perfect that it hurts to think about how fragile everything feels.

It's what both needed. It's what both are thinking. It's what both remain unsaid.

Unbeknownst to both, hours pass. After 'Giraffe Sex' is ended, a program about the Cold War starts. Turns out, Arthur has an extensive knowledge on the subject, which Alfred thinks is a bit weird but hey, maybe it's 'cause he reads so much. Alfred only knows so much about it, meaning 'Commies bad, America freedom.'. Arthur is naturally _not_ impressed, and gives the unwilling Alfred a small lecture about the topic and why 'National Geographic' is_ 'Obviously wrong, they seem to forget that it __wasn't__ just the Americans and Soviets involved.' _and gets made at Alfred's response of _'Really, like who else?_'.

They don't talk much after that, and eventually, they get hungry, so Arthur warms up something in the microwave but leaves the tin foil on and it catches fire, then Alfred bravely rescues him and he's fairly sure Arthur totally clutched onto his shoulder.

Arthur ends up making cereal.

They later argue about the pronunciation of 'aluminium'. It feels to natural to argue without being actually mad. It's insane that they've only known each other for, like, a day, Alfred thinks.

Arthur and Alfred lie slumped against each other with the television showing 'Teen Wolf', Alfred's favourite and Arthur's least favourite show _('Why do they even bother to bleep everything? It's for teens.' 'Artie, that was my reason why they do! No fair!')_ when Gilbert announces his return.

"Hey, hey, hey, my favourite bisexual! What's going on, homos?" Gilbert says, his head poking around the door frame, white hair flipping downwards.

_Wait- What?_

"Come on Gilbert, stop it, it's just a tad bit offensive, and perhaps a little fuckin' stupid, don't you think?" Arthur replies in a strangely relaxed voice.

_What- __What__. _

He's not denying it. And he doesn't seem offended.

_Hooray for the gay. Whoop de fucking doo._

"Look what I brought back, lovebirds!" He jumps forward and with a 'Pow, pow, pow!' and an exaggerated 'Yeah!', he presents his findings.

And there he was.

The two things that Alfred would never to have guessed to have such an influence on his life in the future.

A golden framed picture of Erich Honecker in all his glory with an eerie smile.

As well as a foot. A giant foot. It's size about a meter, Gilbert has to hold it in one hand, grabbing it fiercely.

Amazing.

Both parties sit up slowly. A silence ensures, in which Gilbert's eyes move quickly, scanning Arthur's face and then Alfred's repeatedly.

"Gilbert, what the hell is that?" Alfred starts gesturing wildly, "Wall's been down since like _ages_, man!"

"Nah, been shorter than you think, but look!" He jiggled it around a little. Alfred dramatically turned his head towards Arthur, who looked like he was trying to find a cynical response but couldn't find one.

"It's- It's a foot.", Arthur finally says quietly, "It's a giant foot."

"Hell yeah! Uni society perks!" Gilbert says dramatically, and leaves the room humming .

"Society of what? Feet?" Alfred begins, laughing a little nervously and standing up to walk after him.

"Yeah. Duh. " Gilbert says seriously, his head poking out of the kitchen, and setting the foot on the table.

Alfred hears Arthur's snort from behind him. He stands and folds his arms, then shakes his head and scoffs.

"Are you in like, _every_ society?" Alfred asks.

"Yeah, why?" Gilbert stops caressing the foot and turns to face Alfred, his tone deadly serious.

"No reason, dude. Just asking." Alfred replies with a smile and holds his hands up, palms facing Gilbert and the back to his chest. He walks backwards and nervously angles his eyebrows.

The front door is pushed open and Lovino walks inside, looking considerably pissed off and angry. As usual.

He pulls off his shoes and faces the foot on the kitchen table. He slowly walks forward, brow furrowed in the same concentration as earlier with his cup. He shakes his shoulder a little, adjusting his back-pack, and leans down towards the table, studying the foot. After a while, he straightens his posture.

"The fucks' that?" He asks, surprisingly gentle.

"What?" Gilbert asks from the bathroom.

"That. Or am I really still _that_ stoned." He continues, louder this time.

"Huh?" Gilbert walks forward, the picture still in hands.

"What's that?" Lovino ask again, voice pitching slightly higher, gesturing to the foot dramatically, and raises his hand, then slams it against the front of his thigh when he lowers it.

"Where?" Gilbert looks around the kitchen.

"On the table." Lovino asks, visibly becoming angry.

"My foot, my sweet." Gilbert answers with a cocky grin.

"You've got big feet, dickward." Lovino mirrors his smile.

"You know what they say about-" Gilbert starts.

"Don't even try." Lovino snaps before he leaves the room.

"_E mantenere quella merda comunista dalla mia vista, cazzo."_ He finishes as he shouts from the other side of the apartment.

"_Was hast du gesagt?"_

Lovino slams the door, and Gilbert returns to admiring his find, muttering a 'Yes' or '_Geil'_ now and then, humming.

The next guests arrive home, signalling their arrival with a "Hello, _mon cheri_!".

Like Lovino, the two as well first toe off their shoes, then realise Gilbert's new addition to the household.

Matthew's mouth drops and he nearly loses grip on the grocery bags.

Francis gasps and claps his hands in delight.

"Ah!" He begins. "It is- It is- It is beautiful!" He sighs with pleasure.

"Wait, what?" is Matthew's response, and he hears Arthur shout from his room a loud "_What!?_", then the stomping of his feet and the clumsy noise of Alfred's following him. Matthew moves forwards and eyes the view of Francis digging his vintage Polaroid out of his messenger bag, and sighing.

"It's _parfait_."He says.

The group stands around the table, and the only response is Matthew's "The _fuck_...?"


	4. Chapter 4- Magnetism

Chapter Four: Magnetism.

Both Matthew and Alfred ended up staying until dinner, finding about more about the group as the conversations progressed. Lovino studied law, had a younger brother and a father back in Rome, and was probably the laziest person Matthew had ever met, save for his brother. Francis, born and raised to a rich family in Paris, studied film and was what Alfred described as a '_hipster, art-sy person_' and '_what a_ _total snob, dude'_, and thought it was '_annoying'_ (Probably just because Arthur didn't like Francis), where as Matthew liked hearing about his plans to make his own films, in typical art-loving cinematic matter. He also photographed, and brought his small Polaroid with him to a lot of events. Matthew said that he'd love to see the developed pictures one day. Gilbert, who called Berlin his home, was a subject on his own, and joined almost every single society on campus. He split his time and entire life in devotion to them. Alfred thought it was just damn impressive. Matthew thought it was annoying (Probably just because Francis didn't like Gilbert). Arthur was Alfred's favourite person in the group, although he found it a tight pick between him and Matthew, but he didn't want to make out with Matthew as much as he did with Arthur (Which might be better than way, Alfred thought). Arthur was- Arthur was indescribable.

Both agreed that this was the most brilliant yet strangest group of people they had ever met.

"You know, dude, I've got a real' good feeling about this." Alfred starts as he picks up a basket next to the supermarket entrance.

"Yeah, yeah." Matthew mutters.

"Are you listening?"

"Uh huh, yeah." He continues, picking out a bottle of milk.

"Arthur and I have been texting like-"

"Dude, you, like, only ever talk about him. It's getting kinda annoying." Matthew says hesitantly.

"Yeah, well." Alfred mumbles and blushes, and decides to remain silent and ponder about his thoughts about what happened. It's been a good week since he last saw Arthur- doesn't feel like it, though, because they've been texting a lot.

Yeah.

_A lot. _

He doesn't understand why since he's shit at conversation and judging by the fact that Arthur hid in a bathroom from a party in his own apartment, he wasn't too good either.

Guess they both are now anti-social little shits together.

Alfred smiles dopily.

He forgets to follow Matthew and finds him standing in line at the cashier. He's _slightly_ annoyed at his love-sick brother, because _Jesus_, it's like 'Romeo and Juliet', they've only known each other for a week and here he was, planning out marriage and children and he didn't even want to know what else.

Ridiculous.

Also kind of weirdly adorable. Alfred was like that a lot: Ridiculous, but weirdly adorable.

"Hello." Matthew greeted the cashier, who hummed in response. He had a bored expression on his face, and for being in September, a strangely thick scarf. Huh.

He slowly looked up at Alfred, made eye-contact, and did not break it, even after Alfred looked away awkwardly. He scanned the items extremely slowly with a menacing smile.

Alfred pushed his eyebrows down and bit his lip, rocked on the balls of his feet, and pushed his glasses up his nose.

The cashier didn't stop staring.

Ever since his first day at the job, he's been like that. Alfred even knew his name- Ivan Braginskaya or Braginshiskia something like that. Well. Arthur had his cougar landlady, and he had his convict cashier.

Yeah, that's right.

He went to prison.

Threw a shoe at a police officer on his first day at university.

Turns out you _can_ get a prison sentence for that.

Of like, a week, but it didn't matter.

_That man had __seen__ things._

"That'd be 12.99. Please." He said quietly with a whisper. Matthew paid with card, and Ivan didn't stop staring until they were long gone.

"I've become too used to that." Alfred started in a high-voice.

"Yeah." Matthew agreed in a similar hectic tone. The two started walking faster upon crossing the street.

Upon arriving home, Alfred received a text from Arthur whilst on his laptop sitting on his totally awesome bed with Captain America bed-sheets.

'_Francis want you to come over. Quiche night. Today at eight.'_

'_Whats quiche night lol' _Alfred typed back.

'_A night but with quiche. Lovino would fight him for it but hes too fucking lazy. Francis is the only one who ever cooks anyway.'_

Arthur continued with a _'Also: best to google what a quiche is before you come over. if you dont then Francis will be pissed if you asked and you don't want him to be pissed at you.'_

His phone vibrated again before he could even begin to type a response. _'Unless you're me.' _Alfred smiled.

'_Should we bring drinks? And yeah sure lol love to come! :D'_

'_Super and no we've got all the booze we need. Elizabeta's coming over as well. She likes to drink. And we've got a Frenchie, an Italian, a German and an Englishman. What more do you need to get a good drink?'_

'_lol tru dat.'_

"Hey, yo Matt!" Alfred shouted across their small apartment.

"_What_?" Matthew replied with a similar shout.

"You wanna go to the internash students again? Artie's invited us to Francis's quiche-night. Today at eight." Alfred's voice was getting tired but he was too lazy to move. He heard Matthew's quick footsteps to his room and saw his head poking into Alfred's room and replied with a "Sure."

Upon arriving upstairs, the group seemed to be complete, with all international students along with Matthew and Alfred now sitting in a circle like form on the rough carpeted floor of the living room. Music played in the background, some music off a 'Wild and Free' playlist Francis found online. Hipster, Indie music. As expected. The curtains were closed (Probably because of the landlady and the no-smoking thing, Alfred thought) and each sat with an alcoholic drink in their hand, Arthur smoking a cigarette and Gil rolling something that Matthew didn't even want to know what it was. Francis was busying himself in the kitchen, and upon he calling to greet them, Matthew decided to stand-up and join him. He was the only in the household of Jones-Williams who cooked anything other than unpacking something and either toasting it or sticking it in the oven. Alfred watched him leave and graced him with a happy smile. Probably because he was seated next to Arthur, who was sitting Indian-style with crossed legs, beer in one hand and cigarette in the other. whereas Alfred stretched his out in front of him and leant on one of his hands, also with a beer in the other. Gilbert lay out on his back and was rolling the joint on his chest, Lovino seating himself next to Matthew's empty spot beside Alfred. He gloomily slouched with loose crossed legs, knees touching the floor. The group sat circularly in the middle of the small living-room behind the white sofa, too many people otherwise, with its table pushed in front of it directly towards the wall, leaning on the wall connecting with the door leading towards the small hall-way and the kitchen, as well as the second larger hall-way with each bedroom as well as the bathroom.

Erich Honecker was hanging above the television set with its small table. Upon entering the room, one couldn't even see it, the door was in the way. Only when one walked inside did he grace the viewer with his everlasting smile, as if watching the circle of young people in front of him. He seemed to watch everything in this apartment.

Big Brother is watching you, Lovino supposed.

He took a long sip of his wine bottle (he only drank Italian and was too lazy to get a glass, besides, if anyone else wanted one it was their problem, his family sent him the bottles) and stared the man with a serious expression straight into his eyes.

"What's that?" He said loudly, directing the question towards Gilbert, who sat up in surprise of the sudden question. He held the successfully rolled drug between his fingers.

"That?", he said with a gesture and Lovino responded with a "Yeah, dickhead."

"Honecker. I told you so. 'Brought him in yesterday, you saw him. " He replied with a silly smile.

"'Fucking ugly as fuck." Lovino stated and continued with another sip from his bottle.

"It's not a mirror, its Honecker." Gilbert said with a smirk, earning a angry expression from Lovino and a scoff.

The door bell rang.

"Who's that?" Alfred asked Arthur, turning his head to face him whilst Gilbert jumped up to open the door.

"Elizabeta and her "friend". 'Told you so this morning." Arthur replied in monotone, doing quotation marks with his hands for good measure as he said 'friends' and he slurred his words, only slightly mumbling. Someone can't handle a bottle of beer. Alfred stared in awe. Arthur took a drag of his cigarette.

"I'd offer you one but it's a disgusting habit, really." Alfred coughed at the inhale of smoke. "Sorry." Arthur apologised quietly.

"Nah, it's okay, cold smoke smells good on clothes!" Alfred replied after a small choking fit. Arthur hit him on his back, to which Alfred replied by turning his head to look at Arthur with a slight smile. Arthur stopped and leant away again, sipping his beer. Alfred followed suit.

"Gil!" A woman's voice rang from the door, Elizabeta, Alfred presumed, from the heavy Eastern European sounding voice. He heard kissing noises, but stopped listening to the conversation when Lovino piped up again.

Sounds of laughter and conversation from the living room filled Gilbert's ears when he was introduced to the _incredibly __old_ looking man next to Elizabeta, who was looking just as wonderful as always.

"Roderich Edelstein? You German or something?" He said surprisingly seriously and leant his body towards the door frame, folding his arms and slanting his eyebrows.

"No, he's Austrian. A pianist. Isn't that wonderful?" She gasped and leant towards the tense looking man next to her. She put her hand on his chest with a bright smile. It seemed natural for her to do so. Gilbert didn't like that. She looked nice today, Gilbert thought, with long brown hair braided to the side, which framed her slim face and sharp, thin eyebrows above her brown, sort of almost green-ish, Gil supposed, eyes. Her skin was pale and speckled with moles and small freckles, with a sort of pink undertone. _Nice_.

"Yes." The man finally spoke, short, crisp, with a voice that was a little high pitched, as though he were breaking his voice. What a absolute asshole, Gilbert's mind screamed, and he didn't even really know the guy. Where was Arthur's witty response and quick judgement when he needed it..?

"Wow, a wonderful pianist as well as a wonderful conservationist. I'm- I'm flabbergasted." Gilbert said jokingly, and was graced with a oh-so-familiar loud "Gil!" from Elizabeta. He eyed the man curiously. Looked like he was thirty. She followed Gilbert inside towards the living room and tossed her coat on the pile which lay on the floor. Roderich copied her, not saying a word as she continued speaking to Gilbert about this and that.

"Hi, you must be Elizabeta!" Alfred said excitedly as she sat down next to the others, "'Heard a lot about ya." He smiled at her.

"You flatter me, I'm hardly famous. And you are?" She responded in kind nature.

"Alfred F. Jones!" He grinned at her.

"What does the 'F' even stand for?" Arthur asked with a slight knotting of his eyebrows and Alfred whipped his head to face him.

"It stands for-"

"Ah, Elizabeta!" Francis greeted as he walked in with the quiche in a round form, "It has been too long!" Again with the kissy thing. Europeans.

"It has." She chuckled. The man next to him had not said a word and seemed awkward and a little annoyed.

"And you are?" Francis asked whilst Matthew introduced himself to Elizabeta.

"Roderich Edelstein. Pianist." He replied.

"Oh, a musician! How lovely!"

"Sorry, love, do want anything to drink or smoke?" Arthur asked her with a slight smile.

"No thanks, Arthur, I'm good, I'll just take some wine. I hope you like it, it's Hungarian-" She started, and was interrupted by a loud German.

"I've got all sorts of things in my room. Chemistry association at uni." He proudly gestured to himself.

"Gilbert, really?" She replied, "When will you ever stop it? If you'd stop with the damn societies you'd get much better grades. How do you even have time for them? You've got a job as well, although I don't know how-" She was interrupted by a loud '_thunk'_ and exclaimed a gasp as well as a "What was that?".

"Oh God-" Gilbert began as he turned around and faced the wall.

"What?" Elizabeta said and then gasped when she saw the sight.

"Honecker fell down again!" Gilbert complained loudly, as if worried, and stood up to try and balance it up. He failed miserably and it fell on his foot, and he exclaimed loudly in pain. The others started to pay notice after Gilbert's surprising shout, and Roderich was eyeing Elizabeta curiously.

"Gilbert! How did I miss seeing that when I first- How did- Why did you hang that up?" She replied quickly.

"_Ich bin ein Kind des Ostens, die DDR lebt weiter!"_

"Yeah, yeah, and get Ivan to marry you." She replied softly with a light laugh, sparking amusement from the others as well. Gilbert's heart felt a little too big for his chest at the sound of her voice like that. She leant forward and ruffled his hair. He was frozen and stood stupidly, not moving with his face in shock.

He didn't expect his feelings to come back.

He wasn't sure whether they were entirely unwelcome.

He also wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

"So, what do you do?" Alfred asked once she had sat down, in between Roderich, who was next to Lovino, and Gilbert. Francis and Matthew sat down as well, Matthew next to Alfred and Francis on the other side of Gilbert.

"I'm a professional tennis player. It's not easy to get noticed by teams, so I train here and do courses." She said with a laugh.

"Really? That's so cool! I've never met a professional tennis player!" Alfred replied with an excited voice, almost childish, and Arthur couldn't find himself smiling shyly at the response, hidden by his beer bottle.

"Yes, people rarely do. My family's interested in sport, back in Hungary." She continued with the ever-lasting smile which made Gilbert too fucking happy to find annoying at the moment, "My father is a professional ice-hockey player." She pronounced 'professional' by rolling her 'r's with a strong Hungarian undertone. Gilbert found this stupidly adorable.

"Cool!" Alfred stated with a bright smile towards her.

She licked her lips nervously and coughed, the slowly and quietly said "... He also was a bank robber during Soviet times."

"_Tja, Kinder des Ostens."_ Gilbert replied loudly and patted her on the back. She chuckled and took a sip from her wineglass.

"Dude, that's _awesome_!" Alfred said with a laugh, "I wish my dad was anything that interesting."

"_Alter_, my old man was boring too. Worked in government in the East German times. God damn socialist..." Gilbert started with a loud and brash voice, expected from him, and laughed along his syllables, but ended quietly and his eyes trailed downwards. Elizabeta's eyes trailed sideways in worry and watched him drink his beer. She swallowed thickly. Gilbert must have noticed her staring and turned his head to face her, bottle still in his mouth, and she licked her lips and quickly moved her face forwards again. Gilbert's eyebrows slanted in confusion as he watched her eyes look downwards and bite her lip.

"So what do you do, Alfred?" Elizabeta cleared her throat and asked with a forced smile.

"I'm majoring in physics. 'Course, I wanted to be an astronaut, but nope- Didn't work 'cause I've got glasses." Alfred said with a smile.

"That's unfortunate." Arthur mumbled around his beer bottle.

"Yeah, but magnetism and shit's my thing." Alfred said with a laugh towards Arthur.

"I suppose we all have our things." He replied, tilting his head towards Alfred.

"True. I just picked my favourite subject in high-school. I had to other plans, so I'm glad everything worked out in the end." Alfred said, moving his beer bottle whilst speaking, Arthur's eyes mesmerised on the movements he did, and licked his lips nervously.

"I was juggling between English Lit and Politics, actually." Arthur confessed shyly, taking another sip.

"I could've guessed that, but you probs could have done anything you wanted, you seem hella smart, dude!" Alfred said with a laugh, blushing a little at the compliment.

"I doubt it. I was horrid at Maths and Sciences and Sports, and I hated more than half of the people at my school, and half hated me back." He replied, rolling his eyes a little at the memory.

"'_Something in your magnetism must have pissed them off.'_" Alfred mumbled in a singing voice, reminding Arthur of a familiar tone.

"Alfred F. Jones, did you just make an Alex Turner reference?" Arthur said with a laugh, shifting his body towards him.

"Maybe..." Alfred teased with a slanted smile, eyes trailed downwards and shooting up, meeting Arthur's close and _really _pretty green eyes to finish, "Just to please you."

"I'm fairly sure it worked." Arthur said with a smirk and slightly hooded eyes, his body moving closer.

"Glad to hear it." Alfred replied quietly, leaning into Arthur. He was close, too close- His heart beating too fast and his heart feeling too light and his face too red and his toes and fingers tingled.

"Mhm..?" Arthur hummed and moved his head towards Alfred, head tilting slightly, feeling more nervous than ever before because his mind was racing and pacing with _'__Holy shit__ Alfred Fucking F. Jones is leaning in and he looks like he's going to kiss me'_, especially repeating '_he's going to kiss me'_.

Roderich sneezed and caused both of them to remember where they were. The others expectantly stared at them, with Matthew biting his lip in worry, Elizabeta looking hopeful with a sweet smile, showing upwards slanted eyebrows.

Arthur was the first to scramble back, visibly embarrassed, and took a long drink of beer. Alfred sat in shock, the moved backwards and ran a hand through his hair and coughed. He turned to shyly look at Arthur to find him desperately trying to find a cigarette, without success. He muttered a '_Fuck'_ and stood up. He left to go to his room to get a new packet. Massive loser. He only smoked, like, two, why did he bother not bringing another one?

Alfred debated whether or not to follow him.

He decided not to and sighed.

Arthur walked calmly out of the room, opened his door with shaking hands, closed it and leaned his body onto the wood. He slid down, sitting on the floor, and let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He was fairly sure his face was still red and swallowed thickly. He bit his thumb and closed his eyes, banging his head backwards to rest it on the door.

He was absolutely crushed by his emotions for this stupid, charming, intelligent American idiot with a beautiful smile and gorgeous eyes and-

He was absolutely _fucked_.


End file.
